


Dark Room

by Nonconogram



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Abduction, Abuse, Disturbing Themes, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Experimental Style, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8474911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonconogram/pseuds/Nonconogram
Summary: I don’t remember how it happened. Maybe I was walking home alone at night and he knocked me out. Maybe he found a way into my home and drugged me. I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter. Nothing that happened outside of here matters. That’s why you’re here now.[I've rated it as 'Teen And Up' for now, but I don't know how explicit it may get. Rating may change in the future]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo. This is not an update on any of those stories I've left hanging. Ahahaha~ Oops. The good news is I have a few chapters of this ready to go. No idea where I'm going with it yet.  
> Also, this is very weird. If you've heard of 'stream of consciousness', you'll have some idea of what you're getting into. It's very psychological, and quite weird.

I used to play video games instead of doing homework. I liked the easy victories, the struggles that had clear rules, the lack of real consequences for making the wrong choice. This isn’t like that. It is a game; I know that much. But I don’t understand all the rules, and the consequences are direr than anything from my life before. There are no victories here. Well, that isn’t true. There are plenty of victories, but they’re never mine. The only one who succeeds here is him. I guess that means I’m the antagonist in his game. Any time I win he just plays over it so he can progress to the next level.

I’m not delirious. I’m sure of that. I know this isn’t a video game. But the idea that this is reality is even more insane than the idea that rather than being snatched of the street by some psychopath, I fell through my TV into a game. Maybe this is divine punishment for skipping a test to basically do anything that was not taking a test. It must be a video game. What was that saying I was meant to learn at school? Something about if it’s not impossible it must be possible. Not that falling in a video game was possible. Did that argument actually make the psychopath option more likely?

A coma. A coma made sense. I wasn’t abducted. I just walked into something really hard, face first, and was now in a coma, having some disturbing, traumatising coma dream. A really vivid dream. A really vivid dream that altered from the kind of adrenaline inducing horror that could only be achieved from life threatening experiences, to the kind of tedious I thought only school could achieve.

It wasn’t that I thought about being abducted prior to this, but I certainly never expected it to be boring. The fear of death seemed about right, but this boredom just seems…what’s the right word here? Inappropriate. Something so psychologically damaging shouldn’t be boring.

See, when he isn’t psychologically torturing me, he just leaves me in a dark room. For days. Actually, come to think of it, this was still psychologically torturing me, huh? In fact, this was probably a more effective method. Damn it.

God damn it.

Fucking Hell! I never realised this was still part of his game. I thought he just had a life outside of being a deranged lunatic.

Oh, this is just fucking great.

Now to sit and be entertained by my anger for as long as that lasts, and then it’s right back to boredom.

Just as well I’ve become unhinged enough to create you.


	2. Chapter 2

Creating you was a great idea. Pure gold. It passes the dark time, and I feel like I can tell you anything. Mostly because you don’t exist. You’re some kind of weird link between delusion and imagination. That makes you safe. You can’t threaten me, or even respond to me. You’ll never caress me with a knife, or hold me over the edge of a building. You’ll never do anything of the things he does. Not because you wouldn’t if you could, but because you can’t. I have no idea what you’d do if you existed.

What would you do?

If you have the body to be violent, would you? If you had the voice to be manipulative, would I stand a chance against you? Maybe you’d be more friendly than that. Before I was here, people were good. Or, some people were good. Or, some people were good some of the time.

There was goodness, wasn’t there? People helped each other. They cared for each other. I had friends, at some point. But I remember being alone too. I remember reaching out to a friend. Dragging him down because I was drowning.

My memories are turning cold in my head.

Nothing exists outside of here. Nothing outside of here matters. I can’t forget that. If I forget that, I’ll die here, in the dark.

Would you die with me?

Oh. That’s right. You don’t exist. You’d do whatever I made you do. Hmm. That sounds like something he’d say. I guess you would die with me though. You don’t exist without me.

I need to get out of this room. Even just a glimmer of light, something to see. Something to remind me the world still exists. I don’t care if the only world is the world in this room, but without any light this world is forgettable.

How long has it been since he’s come to torment me? It’s been too long. The only measure I have is my hunger. That’s gone from painful and loud, to silent and agonising. I hardly feel it anymore. That’s a bad sign, right? Or is that a good sign? It hardly hurts. That’s good, isn’t it?

Has he forgotten about me? Am I going to die here? You can’t let me die. If I die, you die too. You’ll cease to exist without me. Don’t let me die.

Please.


	3. Chapter 3

He came back. The light is still burning in my eyes, filling the dark with specs of remembered luminescence. My body hurts, but as he left I smiled. The world still exists.

He fed me, eventually. He toyed with me first, made me earn the food. You don’t need to know how. I don’t want to remember that.

But I’m still alive. That’s what matters here. The light that’s faded from my retinas proved that the world still exists: that I still exist. You don’t. Sorry about that. I’m less delusional now. I know I lost it a bit back there. I’m sorry. Kind of. I don’t know the norm here. Should I apologise to what is essentially my imaginary friend? I guess I can if I want to. That’s the point of you, huh? Being what I need you to be.

Could you be a light? That would be amazing. I could try to imagine something, but that seems like a slippery slope. It’s bad enough I’ve created you. One day I’ll need so much therapy just to kill you off.

I’m kidding.

I know I’m never getting out of here. There’s no therapy in my future. The closest I’ll get is when he sits in here with me and talks. We talk about all sorts of things. Mostly messed up things that make my skin crawl. The things he says…

I said I don’t want to talk about that.

Just back off!

Oh.

I guess I do want to talk about it. You’re not actually real. If it keeps coming up it’s because of me. It’s not like you reply. I thought creating a voice would be going too far. You can just sit there and hear what I need to say. That’s enough. Creating the idea of a person is crazy enough for me.

I guess I need to talk about what he does. But I don’t want to. Do I really need to? Surely there are some kinds of damage where the best thing to do is just push it down. There has to be a line where talking won’t help. Where the best thing to do is just forget. Something about not dwelling, not wallowing in your past. That’s got to be some kind of logic.

No. I don’t want to talk to you about this. But I’m going to need to. If I can’t talk to you, my imaginary friend, then there’s no hope. I’ll be broken forever. I won’t survive this place by not talking.

I don’t where to start. Some of it is better to forget, I’m sure of that. But the things I’ll never forget, that I can’t forget, that I shouldn’t forget… I don’t know what to tell you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to keep to the format of about 500 words per chapter. The brevity seems to work well for the subject, to me at least. What do you guys think? .3. Is this weird format working? What would you like more/less of? There won't be much more description, by the design of the format.


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